


Warmth

by SylvanFreckles



Series: Twelve Days of Fictmas 2020 [4]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Gen, Platonic Cuddling, Sharing a Bed, based off the books, intended as gen but can be read otherwise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:41:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28119363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SylvanFreckles/pseuds/SylvanFreckles
Summary: It wasn't funny...it shouldn't be funny...but Dandelion had this way of turning even his own misfortunes into something of a pantomime for his own amusement. (Or, Dandelion is cold. Geralt is warm. The poet sees but one solution to this problem.)(Set more in line with the books than the Netflix series)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Twelve Days of Fictmas 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2055069
Kudos: 25
Collections: General Manager at the Wendy’s in Fairbanks, Well that was delightful





	Warmth

**Author's Note:**

> I've said it three times already, but this is set in the original novels more than the Netflix series. In the novels, Geralt and Dandelion/Jaskier's relationship is more Bro-TP and less "slap-slap/kiss-kiss". That's why I used Dandelion instead of Jaskier, in keeping with the copy of the books that I have.

“This isn't funny, Geralt!”

Geralt was inclined to disagree, but kept his opinions to himself as Dandelion fussed with arranging his soaking wet clothing around the fireplace. He reclined on the bed, hands tucked behind his head, and watched the poet adjust the angle of his tunic on the room's single wooden chair.

The inn was nice enough for this part of the world, and after over a week of sleeping under the stars in the mounting cold Geralt was more than willing to hand over the necessary coin for a private room. He'd been expecting to have the room to himself, although they were used to sharing after so long on the road, as his friend had found a rather comely and obliging lass at the tavern just a few hours before.

Unfortunately, he'd also found the lass's five big brothers..and they'd found the half-frozen mill pond.

Now Dandelion was clad in nothing but a thin, frayed nightshirt of questionable origin that barely reached his knees, barefoot and shivering despite the heat from their room's small hearth.

“Dandelion,” Geralt called as the bard fidgeted with his clothing for what felt like the hundredth time. He flipped the edge of the blanket back and patted the straw-filled mattress beside him. “Get under the blankets before you catch your death out there.”

Dandelion cast one last, morose look at the bedraggled heron feather that drooped from his sopping plum bonnet before placing it on the mantle and padding over to the bed. Geralt let his eyes slide shut in contentment, only to slam them open again with a badly-concealed yelp as a long, cold body pressed up against his.

“Don't be stingy; you're warm,” Dandelion protested. “It's the least you can do after what I've been through tonight.”

Geralt didn't think that was fair. He really had tried to stop the lass's big brothers from throwing Dandelion in the pond, but there had been other men willing to wade in if the witcher joined the fight. In the end it had seemed that sacrificing his friend's dignity had been a small price to pay to avoid bloodshed.

“Your hair's still wet,” Geralt observed after a moment, idly touching the dark locks atop the poet's head. “We should dry it by the fire before you go to sleep.” He made to sit up, but Dandelion unexpectedly latched onto him with shivering arms. He settled back down. Well. One time probably wouldn't hurt.

The poet was shivering in earnest now. Geralt had been that kind of cold before...the kind that really only sank in when you were finally getting warm again. The kind that tried to rattle you apart from the inside. With a heavy sigh he rolled onto his side and wrapped one arm around Dandelion to haul him close, trapping the bard's cold feet between his own calves.

“Geralt?”

“You're shaking the whole bed,” he replied. It wasn't like they hadn't slept like this before—sharing body heat was essential in the wild, after all. Geralt had spent many colds nights wrapped up with a traveling companion, male or female. They just...most of them didn't talk quite as much as Dandelion.

The poet sniffed and huddled closer, very nearly burying his face in Geralt's shoulder. “Very well. I shall expect you to refrain from ravishing me in the night, Geralt. I would prefer to leave this town with my virtue intact.”

Geralt snorted, shifting his head so his friend's damp hair wasn't pressed against his face. “Since when did you have any virtue to lose?”

“I know how you are,” Dandelion retorted. “Insatiable.”

He laughed at that one. “Yes, of course. Because a cold nose to the jugular is such a renowned aphrodisiac.”

Dandelion sniffed again and pressed his face into Geralt's throat. “Oh, is it?”

Geralt fought back his own shiver. The chill from Dandelion's body was leeching away his own body heat, though at least it seemed the bard's spirits were warming up. “Enough,” he growled, shoving his friend's face away. “Since you asked so nicely, I shall strive to contain my carnal urges.”

“Good.”

Warmth slowly seeped back into Geralt's body as he lay beneath the blankets, until the room was almost cozy. In the night beyond them the snow was falling and the mill pond was re-freezing (if it wasn't already frozen), but within the room the pleasant crackle of the fire was slowly lulling them to sleep.

“Geralt?”

The witcher nearly groaned aloud. Dandelion always had this sadistic need to talk right up until sleep claimed him. “Yes?”

“If I'm stricken with pneumonia in the night, will you stay by my bedside to nurse me back to health?”

Geralt bit back a snort of laughter. “No,” he replied teasingly. “I shall be on Roach before the sun has risen and leave you here to manage your own fate.”

“Ah, I see.” Dandelion shifted again, and to Geralt's relief he seemed to be almost asleep. “I shall just have to recover from this assault upon my good nature, then.”

“Aye,” with a faint smile, Geralt relaxed fully against the bed as sleep finally pulled him under. “That sounds like an excellent plan.”

**Author's Note:**

> Next Time: Mistletoe - "She found the mistletoe! You need to hide!"


End file.
